There were places Gus couldn’t go back because it only stimulated the melancholy atmosphere deep within it; he’d left a decade ago to forgive and forget, although he wasn’t sure if he was forgiving himself for stupidly giving his heart someone who continously broke it or Foxwood for well… everything. He left to live a life without his friends who’d become his happiness and kept himself busy, for every pause was a moment to reminiscence and he hated ever having the chance for his thoughts to linger. But here at Hogwarts, with memories echoing around him, the ghosts would haunt him.
Maybe one day they’d kill him.
Gus wasn’t sure if he’d die happily or miserably within these walls, but at least the constant heartbreak the world had tossed at him the past few months would be gone.
Foxwood’s words pulled at the air from his lungs and he felt like he couldn’t breath; he shakily inhaled before he shook his head. The argument of love was futile — it wasn’t a might be, it was a I love you and I’m sorry that I do because nothing good will ever come from it; sometimes he wished he could break his own heart to pieces and give it to the people he did love, just so they could see concrete evidence that it was beating just them. That he was very capable of love, so much he often thought he might burst from it. It wasn’t his fault that society deemed him a monster simply because he fell in love with the wrong people. (And even in times like this, where his heart caused his own heartache, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.)
Foxwood’s admission that he might love him too was a nugget he tucked away into his mind to dissect later but his heart still flipped and beat against his rib cage. No one had ever said that to him before, at least not in the romantic sense. It felt nice, to hear it, that maybe deep down all the whiplash and back and forth meant something. But, of course something kind came with something cruel - the Basil Foxwood speciality - and his heart fluttered in his chest before giving a pathetic squeeze to keep itself from shattering.
Not that it worked. Gus averted his gaze toward the ground as he waited for the barrage of words that would follow. As Foxwood stepped forward he stepped back, keeping the space between them. His face twisted into something pained and he wanted nothing more than to wipe it off, so he scrubbed his hand across it. It didn’t work. He frowned then and stumbled a few more steps away from him.
His throat was swollen shut. His head empty of his own thoughts as those of Foxwood’s bounced around, reminding him just how much he should have stayed gone. He’d be much better off living in Azkaban because then the only person he’d be hurting would be himself. There he wouldn’t have to make friends. No one would want to be one when they realized how shitty of a friend Gus truly was – he was selfish and a monster; he walked into lives and caused nothing but destruction in his wake. He couldn’t blame the other man for not wanting to be his friend.
It didn’t matter if Foxwood thought he loved him too, or wanted his comfort on the days that nearly choked him to death. Gus had asked him to make a choice and he had — it wasn’t him, and it wasn’t ever going to be. How could he expect someone to love him when he didn’t even want to pretend to be his friend? He might be disgusted with himself for even admitting to wanting him, and of course he’d want to rid himself of the festering wound that was Gus Lissington, because it meant he could cut away the ugly of him out. The unnatural parts. There wasn’t any fault in that. There were days he’d give everything in his life to be just like everyone else, too.
Gus held his hands up in surrender as his head bowed toward the ground; there wasn’t any fight left in him, and even if Foxwood wasn’t angrily spitting at him, he was still aiming to tear his heart about. There wasn’t a single word that he could say to make this better. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “You know, I always pictured you marrying someone you were deeply in love with and having an entire house filled with kids. Hell, I still do.” He lifted his head but refused to make eye contact with him, choosing to stare at the cliff ahead. He wasn’t sure what they would reflect, but something akin to having his heart ripped out and stomped on. “I’m not going to tell you how you feel, but spare my feelings? Don’t even pretend for one second this is about me.” You selfish prick.
Gus slid his hand down his face. “I wish, I wish I could just stop being in love with you because wouldn’t that make my life so damn easy? Yours too, infinitely. Then all these thoughts would vanish and you could move on. Fuck Foxwood, I want you to move on, away from me.” He should have stayed gone; wherever life would have taken him would have been better than this.
“And if you don’t want to be my friend, that’s fine. Just leave me alone and I’ll be another ghost of your past. I don’t regret meeting you Basil, or loving you.” Finally, he shifted his eyes to meet the grey pair. “I’m sorry you ever met me. I didn’t mean for this to implode the way it has… but I’ll be okay without you, and you’ll thrive without me.” He swallowed around the tightness in his throat as the desire to curl into a ball and cry until he was hollow was overwhelming. He’d gone through this and life was making him hit replay on it. Gus didn’t want to forget about Foxwood. But he was going to have to.
A tiredness washed over him and he sighed. Defeated. “You can’t make it all go away, but I can. I never put up a facade, you know. I do love you and you are… were, my friend, too.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth but Gus powered through them. “You have friends who love you, a family who adores you, and honestly anyone would be stupid to think otherwise. You’ll be just fine without me, I promise.” Gus had gotten through this once and he could do it again. Hell, they both had.
“Bye, Basil.” Gus shuffled forward and paused in front of him before he leaned forward to brush his lips against his cheek. It seemed permanent, absolute, a stake to the heart he wished wasn’t breaking his chest. Then he turned on his heel to walk away from him, finding he had nothing else to say.
Maybe one day they’d kill him.
Gus wasn’t sure if he’d die happily or miserably within these walls, but at least the constant heartbreak the world had tossed at him the past few months would be gone.
Foxwood’s words pulled at the air from his lungs and he felt like he couldn’t breath; he shakily inhaled before he shook his head. The argument of love was futile — it wasn’t a might be, it was a I love you and I’m sorry that I do because nothing good will ever come from it; sometimes he wished he could break his own heart to pieces and give it to the people he did love, just so they could see concrete evidence that it was beating just them. That he was very capable of love, so much he often thought he might burst from it. It wasn’t his fault that society deemed him a monster simply because he fell in love with the wrong people. (And even in times like this, where his heart caused his own heartache, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.)
Foxwood’s admission that he might love him too was a nugget he tucked away into his mind to dissect later but his heart still flipped and beat against his rib cage. No one had ever said that to him before, at least not in the romantic sense. It felt nice, to hear it, that maybe deep down all the whiplash and back and forth meant something. But, of course something kind came with something cruel - the Basil Foxwood speciality - and his heart fluttered in his chest before giving a pathetic squeeze to keep itself from shattering.
Not that it worked. Gus averted his gaze toward the ground as he waited for the barrage of words that would follow. As Foxwood stepped forward he stepped back, keeping the space between them. His face twisted into something pained and he wanted nothing more than to wipe it off, so he scrubbed his hand across it. It didn’t work. He frowned then and stumbled a few more steps away from him.
His throat was swollen shut. His head empty of his own thoughts as those of Foxwood’s bounced around, reminding him just how much he should have stayed gone. He’d be much better off living in Azkaban because then the only person he’d be hurting would be himself. There he wouldn’t have to make friends. No one would want to be one when they realized how shitty of a friend Gus truly was – he was selfish and a monster; he walked into lives and caused nothing but destruction in his wake. He couldn’t blame the other man for not wanting to be his friend.
It didn’t matter if Foxwood thought he loved him too, or wanted his comfort on the days that nearly choked him to death. Gus had asked him to make a choice and he had — it wasn’t him, and it wasn’t ever going to be. How could he expect someone to love him when he didn’t even want to pretend to be his friend? He might be disgusted with himself for even admitting to wanting him, and of course he’d want to rid himself of the festering wound that was Gus Lissington, because it meant he could cut away the ugly of him out. The unnatural parts. There wasn’t any fault in that. There were days he’d give everything in his life to be just like everyone else, too.
Gus held his hands up in surrender as his head bowed toward the ground; there wasn’t any fight left in him, and even if Foxwood wasn’t angrily spitting at him, he was still aiming to tear his heart about. There wasn’t a single word that he could say to make this better. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “You know, I always pictured you marrying someone you were deeply in love with and having an entire house filled with kids. Hell, I still do.” He lifted his head but refused to make eye contact with him, choosing to stare at the cliff ahead. He wasn’t sure what they would reflect, but something akin to having his heart ripped out and stomped on. “I’m not going to tell you how you feel, but spare my feelings? Don’t even pretend for one second this is about me.” You selfish prick.
Gus slid his hand down his face. “I wish, I wish I could just stop being in love with you because wouldn’t that make my life so damn easy? Yours too, infinitely. Then all these thoughts would vanish and you could move on. Fuck Foxwood, I want you to move on, away from me.” He should have stayed gone; wherever life would have taken him would have been better than this.
“And if you don’t want to be my friend, that’s fine. Just leave me alone and I’ll be another ghost of your past. I don’t regret meeting you Basil, or loving you.” Finally, he shifted his eyes to meet the grey pair. “I’m sorry you ever met me. I didn’t mean for this to implode the way it has… but I’ll be okay without you, and you’ll thrive without me.” He swallowed around the tightness in his throat as the desire to curl into a ball and cry until he was hollow was overwhelming. He’d gone through this and life was making him hit replay on it. Gus didn’t want to forget about Foxwood. But he was going to have to.
A tiredness washed over him and he sighed. Defeated. “You can’t make it all go away, but I can. I never put up a facade, you know. I do love you and you are… were, my friend, too.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth but Gus powered through them. “You have friends who love you, a family who adores you, and honestly anyone would be stupid to think otherwise. You’ll be just fine without me, I promise.” Gus had gotten through this once and he could do it again. Hell, they both had.
“Bye, Basil.” Gus shuffled forward and paused in front of him before he leaned forward to brush his lips against his cheek. It seemed permanent, absolute, a stake to the heart he wished wasn’t breaking his chest. Then he turned on his heel to walk away from him, finding he had nothing else to say.
![[Image: UkiVTG8.png]](https://i.imgur.com/UkiVTG8.png)